


The One That I Want

by youaresunlight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, President's Son Castiel, Secret Service Agent Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 02:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresunlight/pseuds/youaresunlight
Summary: Castiel arrives on campus for freshman year with boxes, new college sweatshirts, and a full-time Secret Service entourage. As the President's son, he's used to the way his daily life deviates from the norm. But then he meets the newest agent on his security team, and his crush is a curveball he never expected. He hasn't had a connection like this with anyone, except he doesn't know whether Dean feels the same.





	The One That I Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [volantcas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/volantcas/gifts).



> A birthday present for Ana, who's wanted a President's son Cas AU for eons. Thank you so much for being an amazing friend and fellow dumpster buddy. Hope you enjoy this!
> 
>  **Notes:** Cas and Dean are 18 and 25 years old, respectively. This fic is rated T but, if this age difference is a problem for you, please stop here! Also, I referenced some old anecdotes from Chelsea Clinton's classmates at Stanford for details on Secret Service, but feel free to suspend your disbelief for most of the story. :)

Never in Uriel’s three years as his Head of Security has Castiel seen him so disgruntled. Granted, ‘sullen’ is his baseline mood – and he’s far too serious to crack a smile – but he’s usually more generous toward his team.

The new recruit must be an exception.

“He’s a _kid_ ,” Uriel huffs, as they pull up to the dorm on the edge of campus. It’s a stone’s throw away from the Life Sciences building and nestled in trees like most of the College.  

“I thought Bela said he’s twenty-five,” Cas cocks his head with an amused little smile. 

Uriel’s expression is unimpressed. “Like I said, he’s just a kid.”

“Well, everyone’s an infant compared to you,” Castiel teases cheerfully. The autumn air is crisp when he hops out of the car and leaves Uriel rolling his eyes behind him.

There’s still two weeks left until orientation, so the campus isn’t bustling quite just yet. There are students here and there – upperclassmen, mostly – with waves of Castiel’s classmates leaving on their freshmen trips. They’d driven past a crowd of them, back by the quad, all wearing their packs and matching bandanas and huddled around their leaders like baby animals. He’d read all the info when it came in the mail, and might have chosen Hiking or Nature Painting, but security would have been a logistical nightmare, and unfair to the others who’d get stuck with him. 

Cas tries not to be bothered by it, bracing his shoulders as he stands on the sidewalk. It’s no use to dwell on what can’t be changed, and it’s just one trip.

It shouldn’t matter.

Uriel joins him a moment later, perfectly calm and neutral again. “We’re cleared to head inside,” he gestures at the entrance. “All your belongings are in your room.”

Castiel nods. “And the team?” he asks.

“They’ll be in the double across from you.”

 _Fair enough_ , Cas thinks to himself. At least they aren’t sharing a room or anything.

It’s what they agreed on, him and his parents, and he’s had the whole summer to come to terms with it. “What’s his name again? The new guy?” he asks, tapping his brand new I.D. on the card reader. Gabe took the picture for him a month ago, and Cas was admittedly shocked that it came out normal. He was half-convinced Gabe would do something weird like photoshop puppy ears onto his head. 

He doesn’t get to hear Uriel’s reply, because just as he opens the door, somebody walks out, nearly into him. It surprises Cas enough to lose his grip on the door, though the guy reacts fast, catching it with his foot. “Sorry,” he smiles crookedly, and, _Jesus_ , he’s really- “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

It’s kind of embarrassing, how quickly Cas blushes. “Oh, um, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” His gaze darts around like it does when he’s nervous, landing on the t-shirt the guy has on. It’s one of the shirts they have at the bookstore, and it looks _new_. “You live here too?” He hedges a glance back up, which is such a mistake, because _oh_ , the guy has freckles too. 

But to Cas’ confusion, he’s met with wide eyes. Eyes that are green and gorgeous as well, though filled with surprise. “Uh, I actually-”

“This is Dean,” Uriel cuts in. Cas almost forgot he’d been standing there. “He’s the new recruit who’ll be working with Victor.”

“Oh,” Cas blinks.

 _This_ is the new guy.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Uriel leads the way up to his dorm room, a spacious single near the end of the hall. Any windows have been bulletproofed, here and in the bathroom, the kitchenette and lounges, wherever Cas might go. Security had traveled with all of his boxes, now sitting opened but not unpacked, as if to grant him some semblance of the college experience without actually compromising any part of his security. Cas appreciates it nonetheless, mostly for the chance to organize his own things. To put up his posters and hang his clothes and place the furniture just how he’d like.

Dean had been quiet, following them, and Castiel wishes he hadn’t gotten his hopes up, that Dean could just be another student on his floor. He sort of understands where Uriel was coming from; Dean does look young enough to pass for a student. But that’s been the point of this whole arrangement, to have security with him who could blend in at the school.

“Would you like any help?” Dean offers gently, his smile kind as he stands at the door. 

Cas’ instinct is to say he’s fine, but Dean just looks… “Sure,” he says. 

Dean is unobtrusive, Cas notices, only stepping in for the manual labor after Castiel designates where everything goes. It’s a bit embarrassing with the posters; Dean must think they’re pretty childish, but when they finish thumbtacking one of a cat, Dean quirks a smile and calls it funny. It’s a parody of the _Jaws_ poster, except there’s a cat in lieu of a shark and it says _Paws_ in red, block letters. It had made Cas laugh when he first saw it; he’s rarely met a pun he didn’t like. 

The problem now is that he’s blushing too much, with Dean so close and being so helpful and providing an illusion of- 

He feels so stupid.

His security team is great at their job, as serious about it as a heart attack. Dean wouldn’t have been hired weren’t he prepared for the same. He’s just doing his job, and Cas should let him. 

“So, you must be excited, huh?” Dean asks at one point, grinning at Cas over a stack of folded jeans. “Freshman year, unlimited fro-yo… Parties,” he adds with a wink. 

It’s devastatingly playful and leaves Cas breathless, which he hides behind a disbelieving huff. “If you’re expecting to drag me away from parties, you’re out of luck,” he says with a shrug. “I’m not… I’m not really into…” He bites his lip. “I’m pretty boring.”

Dean is probably the opposite of boring though, what with his looks and easy confidence. Cas can see him chatting up girls, guys – whoever he wants, really – and having them fall over themselves to keep his attention.

But when he looks up, Cas finds Dean frowning, and he’s gotten so accustomed to Uriel’s poker face that the obvious emotion catches him off guard. Uriel would never wear his heart on his sleeve, and would advise his team to do the same, and while Cas appreciates the sacrifice, he likes the transparency of Dean’s expression. 

“Parties don’t make you interesting,” Dean says as he opens a drawer in Cas’ dresser. He files the jeans away like they’re folders, neatly and orderly. “And I doubt you’re boring.” 

Cas blushes again, or maybe never stopped. Just a constant heat on his skin. “I am. Even _Us Weekly_ said so.” 

Dean snorts. “Peak journalism.” 

“Exactly my point,” Cas counters with a grin, which Dean mirrors gently once he closes the drawer. 

“I’ll consider myself warned,” he tells Cas softly, and Cas thinks, well, what’s the harm in being friends?

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Dean does become a friend, and quickly, a natural progression of their constant nearness, but every moment that passes them by has Castiel wishing for something more. It might be selfish on Cas’ part, because to Dean, this is just his job. Even if Cas feels flushed and giddy around him. Even if Dean makes it easy to fall.  

In the couple of weeks leading up to orientation, Dean is the person he talks to the most, about all the classes he’s thinking of taking, the clubs he could join, the sports he might play. He doesn’t plan on trying out for any, though he used to play soccer back at Sidwell Friends. Club Soccer is always an option, as Dean points out one morning over breakfast. 

Cas already has access to the dining halls, and so does his team for obvious reasons, but there’s a great coffee shop at the mouth of Main Street and he doesn’t mind the walk in the August sun. He particularly doesn’t mind when Dean goes with him, casually dressed so as to not stand out. If it weren’t for the earpiece, Dean would really fit in, looking like another student. Cas’ boyfriend, maybe. 

“Did you play any sports in school?” Cas asks once they’re seated with their coffees and scones. The place is tiny – just three round tables – most customers taking their orders to go. 

“Sure. Lacrosse and baseball. Hockey too, but that was earlier.” Dean splits his scone in half and sets one piece down a little closer to Cas. He got the chocolate while Cas chose lemon, and it’s domestic enough to throw Cas off balance. 

“What about soccer?” he reaches for the scone, buttery and packed with chocolate chips. “I mean, how will you keep up with me during practice?” 

Dean laughs good-naturedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll manage.”

Cas pretends to look skeptical. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he teases lightly. If his heart skips a beat at the curve of Dean’s smile, no one has to know. Especially not Dean. 

“You nervous at all? Orientation’s tomorrow,” Dean changes the subject, albeit gently. 

Cas shrugs. “A little, I guess.” He taps his fingers on the side of his coffee cup. “I’d just… like to do my own thing. Be a college kid, be as normal as I can.” He hopes that he doesn’t seem bratty, because that isn’t what- He’s not trying to- “It’s not that I’m ungrateful. I _know_ who my parents are, and what that gives me. Things I don’t deserve. But I’m hoping to find people who’ll want to get to know _me_ , and not… I don’t know. It’s stupid, sorry.” 

He’s not making sense and it’s mortifying, to try to open up and have it fall to pieces. He doesn’t know why he bothered at all when Dean had only asked a simple question. God, the last thing he wants is for Dean to think he’s being dramatic about his privileged life. 

“Hey,” Dean calls to him, and he doesn’t sound annoyed or otherwise. He instead waits patiently for Cas to look up, which takes a second because Cas isn’t brave enough. “Look, you and me, we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together, and I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t tell me something, or be honest with me.” Dean leans forward, resting his forearms on their shiny black table, tan and muscled. “I know it’s not exactly my job description, but I’m here if you want to talk.” 

Cas is… surprised, mostly. That’s not the response he expected from Dean. Something polite and measured, maybe, but not such a genuine offer of support. It messes with his head a little, and a lot with his heart, but he tamps down on it. 

“Thanks,” he answers softly. “I’ll… take you up on that.” 

“Good,” Dean smiles back, like he’s the one who should be relieved.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

He may not have gone on the camping trip, but Cas has no problem making friends. Admittedly, it’s easier when people approach him, out of curiosity or whatever else. He’s been a politician’s son since he was born, and he can spot intention a mile away. It’s not that he blames them for trying to network, but he still does his best to try and slip away. 

He does find classmates on his floor who seem more chill compared to others. Whether it’s due to their personalities or the constant exposure, Cas isn’t sure, but he’s thankful for it. He’s in the same writing seminar as a girl named Jo, who’s pretty, blonde, and delightfully sarcastic. In fact, the only times he sees her demure are in front of Dean, but he can relate. Garth is shier yet disarmingly warm; Ash is brilliant and _really_ into Jo; Nancy tells them quietly one night in the common room that she’s a bit homesick, and they take her out for ice cream. 

It’s better, once he finds his group, and he doesn’t talk to Dean or Victor any _less_ , but he knows he sounds happier, more secure, when he does. Dean smiles at him like he’s fond, and Cas isn’t sure how to process that, so he babbles about his classes, the assignments he’s working on, the perfect study spot he found the other day. 

“There’s this list that they gave us,” he says, cross-legged on his bed with some notes in his lap. It’s hard to believe he has midterms next week, and that he’s halfway done with his first fall quarter. “It’s one-hundred-and-one things to do before we graduate, like on campus and in town and stuff.” 

“Yeah?” Dean says from behind his laptop, sitting across from Cas in the reclining desk chair. “I did see you were checking some off. Anything stand out?” he asks curiously. 

“Yes, actually,” Cas says then pauses, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “There’s- The physics department has an observatory, and its telescopes are open to everyone on Fridays.” He folds and unfolds the corner of his notebook. “It’d be cool to check it out, I think.” 

“That would be pretty cool,” Dean nods with a smile. “Let me or Victor know, and we’ll arrange it, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Cas deflates a little, though he’s careful not to let it show. It isn’t like he’d hoped for a date or anything, but he and Dean _have_ been hanging out, and he thought that they- “I will. Thanks, Dean.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

January arrives with something of a vengeance, along with a blizzard that buries them in snow, enough for the admin to call a ‘snow day’ on a campus that sees flurries starting in October. 

Jo knocks on their doors when they all receive the email, wielding a box of brownie mix. “Dining halls are closed,” she announces seriously, “and I’m about to save all your sorry lives.” 

In the end, it’s a lunch of brownies and some Easy Mac Garth graciously donates. Victor shakes his head because he’s an absolute health nut, but Dean just laughs and thanks Jo for the brownie. 

It’s far too windy to go outside, and the group parts ways once the dishes are washed. Jo and Ash bring their work into the common room while he, Garth, and Nancy share small, knowing smiles. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks Dean, catching him before he disappears into his room. Victor was making noises about Overwatch, but Dean’s far less enthused about video games.

Dean seems to hesitate, but only for a moment, and then he says, “Sure, I’ll just let Victor know.” Cas can hear him while he pokes his head into their room and his pulse picks up, treacherously. “You don’t have any work to catch up on?” Dean asks as he shuts the door behind him. They cross the hall together into Cas’ room and it occurs to Cas that they’ve never watched a movie alone.

“Nope, I finished it yesterday.” 

Dean grins. “Star student,” he says.

Cas would roll his eyes if his heart weren’t pounding. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters inanely.

They sit on the bed, backs against the wall, the laptop perched on a couple of textbooks. Cas pulls up Netflix and they scroll for a bit, eventually choosing a comedy they’ve both already seen.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t have to pay much attention, because twenty minutes in, he’s pressed against Dean on his small, twin bed, and a bit of a wreck. It feels too warm where their arms are touching, despite his sweater and Dean’s soft Henley. He wonders if Dean can sense his pulse, or the heat that’s radiating from his skin.

Something happens in the movie that makes Dean laugh, a chuff that rumbles out of his chest. He then turns his head to hedge a glance at Cas, expression quieting. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I just…” Cas makes a vague gesture. “It’s… It’s nothing.” He tries to look back toward his laptop screen, but can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

Dean, of course, seems unconvinced, and nudges his shoulder, slow and gentle. “Are you sure?” he asks him softly, and he sounds so concerned, and Castiel just- 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says with a sigh and tries to convey a genuine smile.

Dean peers at him for a moment, studying Cas’ face with single-minded focus. This close, Cas can count every freckle and admire the lashes framing Dean’s eyes. He isn’t confident that he’s not blushing, because it definitely _feels_ like he’s being transparent, but whatever face he’s making must appease Dean enough to say “Alright” with an easy grin. 

Cas calms himself down after that, even putting in an effort to follow the movie. It’s not like it’s hard to decipher the plot but, with Dean on his mind, he considers it a feat.

The movie ends predictably, and Dean starts to shift as the credits roll. Cas longs for the warmth as soon as it’s gone and watches Dean while he smoothes down the front of his shirt. “I should check in with Victor,” Dean says lightly, laughter in his voice as he walks to the door. 

‘No, stay” is on the tip of Cas’ tongue, but he swallows the words and climbs off the bed.

They always part ways at Cas’ door, standing on opposite sides of the threshold. Tonight, Dean pauses while reaching for the handle and turns around. “Hey, this was fun.” 

It’s a sentence that could seem so empty and fake, but coming from Dean, it sounds like he means it. Cas can’t stop himself from asking, “Really?” and _immediately_ wants to bury his face in his hands. 

Dean’s laugh is bright and charmed, though. “Yes, really. Is that surprising?” He’s asking like Castiel is missing the obvious, like it’s a given that he’d enjoy their time together. 

And the thing is, he looks so fond, his generous mouth curved into a smile and his green eyes crinkled, all because of Cas. He looks terribly handsome, standing there, in his soft, rumpled clothes that Cas wants to touch. He doesn’t stop smiling, waiting for an answer, so relaxed and open and intimate. It gives Castiel the courage he’s lacked before, and he takes a step forward, then another, and then- 

Dean’s lips feel much warmer than Cas had imagined, parting slightly with a sudden huff of surprise. His back hits the wall with a muffled _thump_ and his hands fall to curl around Cas’ hips. “Cas,” he breathes out softly, in the moments between one kiss and the next, his voice so low and hushed and perfect that Cas burrows deeper into Dean’s chest. 

“Cas,” Dean says to him again, but it’s clearer this time, maybe a little stern. He uses his grip on Cas’ sides to nudge him back, away from himself. There’s something in his tone, akin to regret, and Castiel blinks with both cheeks flushed. He tries to find his voice, but Dean beats him to it, shaking his head, “We can’t do that.” 

Embarrassment slams into Cas like ice, and he clenches his fists to keep his hands from trembling. “Why not?” It’s barely a whisper and it’s pathetic, he _knows_ , but-

“You’re too young.” 

For the first time in months, Dean looks a little helpless, clearly keeping his distance and sounding pained – apologetic, almost, and Castiel hates it. He opens his mouth, wanting to protest, but Dean cuts in again, relentlessly blunt. “That’s just one of the reasons,” he adds, a poor attempt to placate. “It’s not a good idea.” 

Castiel feels hot and cold all over, his face burning but his chest so tight, like he’s inhaled a lungful of icy air. He feels pinned by Dean’s gaze yet he can’t look up. _Refuses_ to, rather, out of mortification. “Okay,” he responds somehow, though it’s soft, subdued, and he’s anything but. He forces himself to turn around and hide his expression. “Yeah, I get it.”

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean calls to him, and Cas can easily guess the look on Dean’s face. He’s probably pitying Cas right now. Just a stupid kid. This was such a mistake.

“I get it,” he says again, and all he really wants is to curl up in bed. Without the warmth of Dean’s body, he feels cold and clammy, something not even his thick, woolen sweater can fix. “I…” he closes his eyes through a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, can we…”

He hears Dean pause, shuffling his feet, then, “Sure, I’ll just… I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Cas barely waits for his door to close before climbing into bed, slipping under the covers. He shoves all the books and his laptop aside and curls into himself, around the ache in his chest.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

The blizzard clears and leaves behind slippery streets of ice and slush. Cas bundles inside his coat and boots and braces the wind as he heads to his classes. 

Dean is, of course, as present as ever, though he’s careful to give Castiel his space, letting Victor take the lead on day-to-day security. Meanwhile, he looks at Cas like he wants to say something, soft and concerned but hesitant. Cas ignores it as best as he can, pouring any and all of his spare attention into classes and friends and Club Soccer practice. 

It’s how he finds himself in a fraternity on a snowy Thursday night. A couple of his teammates are brothers here and they crowd into the basement, cheeks pink from the cold. 

He can make out Dean in his periphery, face shadowed beneath the bill of a baseball cap and standing to the side, away from the tables. Over the years, he’s gotten used to being followed and watched over, and it’s easy to keep his head bent in conversation and start a game of pong when his turn comes around. 

It’s a surprise then, when an hour later, Dean catches his elbow says, “It’s late.” His lips are downturned, clearly displeased. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.” 

Cas frowns, setting down his paddle, and feels his teammate – who’d had his arm around Cas – awkwardly clear his throat and take a step back. And _that_ \- That pisses him off. Isn’t it enough that Dean doesn’t want him? His life is already far from normal as it is, and he just wants- “I’m not ready to leave.” 

Dean looks at him warily. “Cas,” he starts. 

“You don’t need to _hover_ over me,” Cas huffs, even when he knows Dean’s just doing his job. “I’ll get home on my own,” he adds, and he hates how whiny, how spoiled he sounds. 

Dean’s expression doesn’t change as he listens, still blank and sober, a little disappointed. And it’s the disappointment that hurts the most, making Cas’ cheeks run hot with shame. 

“You know I can’t do that, Cas,” Dean reasons with him, infuriatingly calm. Despite the music and noise around them, Dean’s voice stands out, almost magnetizing. 

A hand curls gently around his arm. “Hey, Cas, you uh… wanna run it back?” The table’s been reset with new cups and beer and Cas could technically stay; Dean works for _him_. 

“I think I’m headed out, actually,” he says, smiling apologetically. “See you tomorrow?” 

His friend nods, frowning slightly, not-so-subtly watching Dean over Castiel’s shoulder.

He weaves around the basement to say good night, begging off invitations for more pong and drinks. Dean waits by the stairs, then follows dutifully as they reach the ground floor and cross it silently. Outside, it’s bitingly cold, and Cas isn’t sure what made him think leaving his dorm without a scarf would be a good idea. He’s definitely regretting it now, breathing in frigid air that tightens his lungs. He tucks his chin into his collar as best as he can and stays hunched over as he heads down the block.

Dean catches up to him in two quick strides.

“You’re shivering,” he says, his brows drawn together. He sounds worried, and Cas keeps walking because stopping is worse when it’s below zero like this, but Dean is faster and before Cas knows it, there’s a second coat draped over his shoulders.

He has to stop then, because is Dean insane? He tells him as much. “You’re gonna freeze to death!”

“No, I won’t,” Dean walks ahead. “Unless you keep us here in the middle of the street.”

The coat is warm and it smells like Dean. Cas breathes a bit easier. “Asshole,” he says.

“What was that?” Dean turns around, his lips curled up in a maddening smile.

Cas rolls his eyes and the tension eases, enough that they end up alongside each other. Their arms brush gently the entire way home – until Dean’s swiping them into the residence hall. The central heating must be on full blast and Cas sighs in relief as he shrugs off the coat. He hands it over with pink in his cheeks, from the cold and otherwise. “Thanks for this.”

“Sure,” Dean replies, then pauses for a beat, folding his coat into a bundle in his hands. “Look, Cas, about earlier… I’m sorry I upset you,” he says earnestly.

“It’s fine,” Cas shifts on his feet. “You were right. It was late anyway.”

“No, I… You would’ve been fine and I overreacted,” Dean admits. He rubs the back of his neck, endearingly awkward. “I guess I’m still trying to find a balance.”

“Yeah,” Cas lifts his eyes, which prompts Dean to smile, nakedly fond. He looks younger like that, with his open expression, and it’s easy to imagine...

He pushes away the thought.

“Well, I should um…” Dean gestures behind him, his subsequent laugh a little soft and sheepish.

Cas clears his throat. “Me too,” he says, though sleep is the furthest thing from his mind.

Dean smiles again, and it lights up the hallway. “Good night, Cas. See you in the morning.”

“Uh huh, see you,” Cas murmurs shyly, ducking into his room with a racing heart.  

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Dean considers himself a practical person. Solid. Dependable. Rarely self-indulgent. The type to treat himself to pie then go running afterward. It’s boring to some, but works well for him.

So, this _thing_ , this dynamic with Cas. It comes out of left field and leaves him at a loss. He knows it’s ridiculous, far from sustainable, and he’s not one to want something he can’t have.

There’s no denying that Cas is beautiful. Anyone with eyes could tell him that. And Dean knows he’s hopeless when he sees Cas in the morning, sleepy and rumpled, and his heart says, ‘Wow.’

Of course, there are a hundred reasons it couldn’t work. They’re seven years apart for one, which would make him hesitate in any scenario, but it’s his duty to look after Cas, and given who Cas’ father is- Well.

It’d be messy.

The last thing he expects is for Cas to kiss him, and when he does, it’s hot and _electric_ and takes every ounce of willpower to push him away. He lets him down, as gently as he can, regardless of how shitty it is to see Cas’ eyes wide with hurt. He tells himself it’s the right thing to do, because emotions have no place in his line of work.

He trades shifts with Victor and keeps his distance, and sometimes he’ll look at Cas and want to bare his soul, until he shoves the feeling aside to center himself. He manages to hold it together, keeping his head down to focus on his job. He doesn’t let his personal life interfere. It’s too risky, and Cas deserves better.

But the day after he walks Cas home from the frat, Cas finds him in the hallway first thing in the morning to ask, “Can we go to breakfast? That diner in town?” He’s wearing his sweatshirt, with the college seal, both hands tucked into its kangaroo pocket, and the look in his eyes is painfully unsure, like Dean would deny him and turn him away.

“Yeah, of course, just give me a sec,” Dean smiles reassuringly before returning to his room. He takes a steadying breath and thinks _Don’t be stupid_ as he grabs his jacket and rejoins Cas.

The diner is busy but not as packed as it would be on weekends, which is a relief. They’re seated quickly without much fuss, the locals fairly used to seeing Cas by now.

“You need to eat a main before the pie,” Cas says, smiling at Dean over the top of his menu.

“Now I have no choice but to order just pie,” Dean teases in return, and it feels so natural.

Cas orders his usual omelet with a dozen fillings; Dean decides to try their famous glazed cruller French toast. When both dishes arrive and Cas is hit with food envy, Dean cuts a hefty piece and passes it over.

“This is so good,” Cas sighs around his fork, and then he’s licking all the powdered sugar off his lips while Dean tries his hardest not to look affected. “Can I have another bite?” he asks, blinking those dark lashes innocently.

Dean snorts but picks up his knife. “Does batting your eyes really work every time?”

“Batting my what?” Cas tilts his head, but he’s smiling a little. Incorrigible.

Despite everything, the conversation is easy, and Dean finds himself wishing for the umpteenth time that circumstances were different, with nothing to stop him. He’d ask Cas out in a heartbeat, and it’d be good. They’d be good to each other. They would go to the movies; hold hands at the park; do cheesy couple things like apple picking.

“Can I ask you something?” Cas says then, pushing around his leftovers with his fork. His eyes are cast downward, away from Dean’s face, and he’s biting his lip. Insecure again.

Dean’s heart aches a little. “Yeah, anything.”

“Yesterday, at Beta Phi… Did you come get me just because it was late? Or was there something- Was there another reason?”

“What?” Dean says faintly.

“I don’t know why, I just…” Cas breathes out harshly, still avoiding Dean’s gaze. “I couldn’t help but think…” He’s fidgeting, Dean can tell, probably wringing out a napkin beneath their table.

Dean’s not sure how frank he should be, if he should come clean on how petty he’d felt, watching some backward-baseball-capped frat brother hang all over Cas. The intention could be from outer space and once he’d pull Cas close, enough was enough.

He schools his expression and the tone of his voice. “No other reason,” he tells Cas blankly.

Cas looks up. “Oh,” he says, every emotion etched on his face. “So, it’s fine if I go back tonight? They’re having a party. Tom invited me.”

Dean can practically _hear_ the tick in his jaw. He’s been figured out. “ _Cas_ ,” he warns.

Fierce frustration crosses Cas’ eyes. “Why won’t you admit that it bothered you?”

“I’m not here to police what you do in your free time.”

“That’s not what I’m asking, Dean,” Cas retorts.

And Dean knows that. He knows but he _can’t_ \- “It’s ten after nine,” he waves for the check. “We should probably head out.” His throat feels tight.

Cas is staring at his hands again. “Would it be so bad?” His voice is so soft, so terribly unguarded. “My parents won’t care as long as I’m happy, and I- I don’t really think I’m alone in this, am I?” 

“It’s not that simple,” Dean sighs defeatedly. _I’m not good enough for you_. _You’ll change your mind_.

Their server coming by breaks up the moment, interrupting whatever reply Cas was ready to give. But even after she’s gone, the words never come, and it quickly becomes clear that they’re back to square one.

Victor accompanies Cas to his classes that day, while Dean stays back to debrief Washington and book his flights for his upcoming break. The breaks are week-long and staggered for all the agents, with substitutes flown in to take over their posts.

He’s mostly grown out of being a nervous flyer, though that’s not to say he’s excited about a half day’s travel to Palo Alto. But he hasn’t seen Sam in a couple months now, not since New Year’s at their mom’s in Lawrence, and he apparently needs to meet this girl named Eileen, whom Sam hasn’t shut up about for just as long. 

He sets his itinerary from Logan to SFO to Ronald Reagan, as the end of his break will coincide with the President’s birthday celebration in D.C. It’s where Cas will be in a few weeks’ time and the team is expected to accompany him back to the campus. He purchases his tickets and emails Sam, telling him how stoked he is to see his “giant forehead.”

Victor’s real-time updates come through periodically – _en route to lunch at library café_ , _en route to Bio_ , _en route to North Hall_. Cas is with friends, according to Victor, who’ll no doubt keep watch without intruding on them.

Dean keeps his earpiece in as he runs his errands, like finally folding his and Victor’s giant heap of laundry and spending most of it pairing their millions of socks. He has time to actually answer clear his inbox and make a dent in the novel he’s currently reading. It’s almost dinnertime before he knows it, and Victor should’ve checked in by now.

He has about a second to react to the thought until a harsh knock on his door jolts him out of it. He’s moving to answer when Uriel bursts in, staring him down. “Do you know where he is?”

Dean’s blood runs cold. He swallows. “Is Cas…?”

“He was at North Hall, then Henriksen lost him.”

“Nothing came through,” Dean says, alarmed, crossing the floor in a flash to grab his gear.

“I sent him on the search,” Uriel replies. “Cas didn’t mention anything?”

Dean frowns. “To me?”

He swears that Uriel rolls his eyes, before waving at Dean to follow him through the door. They run down the stairs and out the entrance of the dorm, the sun long set on a late winter sky. Dean uses every trained instinct to calm himself down. He knows that Cas carries a panic button at all times, has been taught self-defense, holds a blue belt in Krav Maga. He runs through these facts, several times over, till his mind is clear enough and he can _think_.

“Campus security is checking all buildings, assisted by police. What are we missing?” Uriel asks. “And don’t play coy with me, Winchester. You two have been anything but subtle since the start of Cas’ year.”

Dean’s mouth drops open. “We… I haven’t-”

“I know you haven’t encouraged him,” Uriel says. “But he’s also been upset since breakfast this morning, so you have ten seconds to remember something useful.”

There are too many thoughts rushing through Dean’s brain, forcing him to try his damnedest to find the straightest line out. He mentally draws a map of the entire campus, listing off each place he and Cas have been to.

Uriel looks more unimpressed the longer it takes, and Dean tips his head back in pure frustration, mostly at himself for fucking things up. Even the stars seem to mock him in all their brightness, with no city lights to dim their shine, and he has no time to be focused on _stars_ -

“The observatory.”

They break into a run.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

They’re both breathless when they find Castiel, standing alone in a tiny building housing one of the observatory’s telescopes. He startles a bit when they step inside, only to appear chagrined at Uriel’s expression.

“You had us worried,” Uriel says, and it’s obvious from the way his gaze scans Castiel how true that is. Once he confirms that Cas is alright, he gruffly adds, “Dean thought we might find you here,” which prompts Cas to look over at Dean with widened eyes and parted lips, his expression one of hopeful surprise.

“Yeah, I…” Dean clears his throat. “You have the, um, that list on your wall and you mentioned-”

“That wasn’t a request for an explanation,” Uriel sighs, deep and suffering. He turns back to Cas, seeming calmer now. “Please tell us where you’re going next time.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Castiel says, lowering his eyes apologetically. “I just… I didn’t know where to go and I…” He tucks his lip between his teeth, frustrated.

Uriel softens uncharacteristically, or perhaps he makes an exception for Cas. He places his hand on Cas’ shoulder, careful yet protective – paternal, almost. “It’s okay,” he tells him quietly. “We found you and you weren’t hurt. That’s all that matters,” he says. He waits for Cas to look up to give him a small, reassuring smile, and his face is blank again by the time they’re outside. “Dean, please walk him home.”

The campus is quiet now, their path back to Cas’ dorm illuminated only by streetlamps and stars. With the adrenaline wearing off, Dean starts to feel the cold more sharply on his skin, and he’s relieved to see that Cas is bundled up, since in his haste, Dean had only reached for his gear and nothing warm to offer Cas had he needed it.

They’ve maybe gone a block from the observatory when Castiel stops him, forehead creased in a frown. It’s absolutely the worst time to find it cute, and Dean can only blink while Cas unwinds the thick, woven scarf from his neck and wraps it around Dean’s instead. “You’re not invincible, you know,” he says. “New England winters aren’t a joke, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Without the scarf, Cas’ cheeks are visible, a peachy pink even in their dimmed surroundings. It’s a sight so charming that Dean is tempted to touch, to tenderly shield them from the wintry air. In the end, he’s grateful that his tactical vest has pockets and shoves his hands into them, doing nothing.

“Thanks,” he says instead, his heart skipping treacherously when Cas’ blush deepens.

“It’s nothing,” Cas murmurs softly, one hand lingering on the scarf, then dropping away.

The cold doesn’t seem too unbearable after that, and the silence between them is comfortable, a hearth inside his chest that warms Dean to his toes. It’s just a few more minutes till they’re back on their floor, but he relishes the feeling for as long as he can.

He takes the scarf off when they’re at Cas’ door. In better light, he realizes it’s not black but dark, hunter green. “Thanks again for this.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel says, looking slightly sheepish. “I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“Hey, no, you heard what Uriel said. You’re okay, so everything’s fine.”

“Still,” Cas protests weakly. “I don’t know why I didn’t… I just wasn’t thinking.”

Dean studies him carefully, taking in the precious vulnerabilities writ into every line of Cas’ face. “How did they look?” he asks eventually.

“How did what look?”

“The stars,” Dean replies.

“Oh.” Cas’ eyes grow fond, and he rocks his weight back onto his heels then off, sort of shy and that much sweeter for it. “They were really… really beautiful. Brighter than I thought they’d be.” He smiles, just for Dean to see; it’s more rueful than anything else. “But it felt a little lonely too. Is that weird? Saying that about stars?”

“No,” Dean is quick to assure him. “People say all kinds of things about stars.”

Cas laughs and scuffs his shoe against the carpet. “Yeah… Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“You can check it off the list, though, huh?”

“Mm,” Cas shrugs, noncommittal. He’s finally stopped shifting and is standing so still, his voice softer when he says Dean’s name. “Dean, can I ask for a favor?”

Dean can hear his heart hammering. “Sure,” he nods.

“I never meant to make things awkward for us, and I promise to not bring it up again. But if later on- If you ever change your mind… will you let me know?”

“Cas,” Dean breathes.

He can barely hear past the pulse in his ears, can hardly stand the look in Cas’ eyes. They’re huge and blue and devastating, and all Dean wants is to drown in them. He can’t believe what Castiel’s asking, what he’s implying. What he thinks Dean is worth.

A part of him, then, feels a bit ashamed, with Cas being so brave and baring his soul. He shouldn’t have let Cas fall without being ready to catch him. Maybe this means he doesn’t have to be afraid.

“I will,” he promises Cas, and it’s like a weight lifts off of his shoulders. He hedges a step forward, then cups Cas’ face. “Just- Give me a little time. Okay?”

Cas’ gaze is so, so bright, like this is more than he’d been hoping for. “Yeah,” he lifts one hand, curling it gently around Dean’s own. “I can wait.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

It’s an odd thing, to call the White House home – to live somewhere so overwhelmingly iconic, the sort of place people plan trips around. It’s probably natural for Cas to feel like a perpetual guest in someone else’s house.

His bed is made meticulously, all folded and creased, and he always feels guilty lying on it, though the memory foam and obscenely high thread count mean he ends up giving in and flopping down face first.

“All those crazy ragers must’ve worn you out, huh?” Gabe jokes from the doorway, loud and obnoxious. Cas barely moves as he grunts a reply, which Gabe takes as a cue to invite himself in. He perches on the bed, legs off to the side, unbothered by the fact that Cas is still face down. He ruffles Cas’ hair, and it’s comforting enough that Cas doesn’t protest, or push him away.

“For real though, you doin’ okay?” Gabe asks him worriedly, tapping his shoulder.

Cas holds off on answering till the pillow’s too warm, making him turn his head to rest his cheek on it instead. He blinks at his brother. “I’m fine,” he lies.

As he expected, Gabe doesn’t buy it. His eyes flash fiercely. “Someone bothering you?”

Cas tells the truth this time. “No. I promise.”

Gabe relaxes, albeit minutely. He’s always been protective, ever since they were younger. “Okay, so it’s not that then… classes? Professors?” Cas shakes his head. “Boy problems?”

Gabe’s expression is a shit-eating grin and Cas wrinkles his nose. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

And as much as Gabe loves him, he’s a brother through and through. “Aw, Cas, it’s okay. It’s all part of growing up.”

Cas throws a pillow at him.

Gabe does leave him alone eventually, something about Georgetown and meeting up with friends, and how Cas is welcome to join if he wants. Cas turns down the offer under the pretense of being tired from exams and travel, but when he’s lying on his bed – a ridiculously comfortable one by any standard – he finds it impossible to fall asleep.

He stares at his cell on the bedside table, the boring, encrypted Blackberry with Dean’s number listed in the contacts. He could call him right now if he wanted, to talk like they have for the past few weeks, covering every topic under the sun except the crucial one they’ve both been avoiding.

Cas goes as far as reaching for the cell, thumbing through the numbers, then tossing it aside. It’s Dean’s week off and taking time away from that wouldn’t be fair.

He can wait a little longer. He promised that he would.

For Dean.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

His father’s birthday has been a public affair since his and Gabe’s childhood, and has only grown in scale and attention alongside his political career. Cas does take comfort in the fact that there’s always a private celebration the morning of, when it’s just their family and a Betty Crocker cake that he and Gabe slather in confetti frosting.

By the time the official dinner is well underway, the four of them laughing at Gabe’s terribly iced ‘Congrats Dad, You’re Old!’ starts to feel like a distant memory. The ballroom brims with voices, belonging to faces he doesn’t recognize. He tries adjusting his suit to breathe a bit easier but the fabric is too new, too pressed. Tailored too perfectly.

Still, Cas is used to this. He knows how to listen with his head bent just so, how to hold up his end of a polite conversation. He catches Gabe’s eye occasionally, hiding his laugh each time Gabe makes a face, and that helps the evening flow a little more quickly, until the guests are migrating to dance after dinner.

He’s contemplating if he ought to join when Uriel steps up to the table. “Uriel, why are you here and not on the dance floor?” Cas jokes.

Uriel ignores him. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yes?” Cas tilts his head, slightly concerned now. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy,” Uriel says, gesturing him to follow. “Come on, kiddo.”

Cas has no clue what Uriel could be up to, though he figures it’ll be pointless to ask any questions. His expression is as carefully blank as it’s ever been, and impressive in its power to make guests part around them.

Cas keeps his peace until they’re out the main doors and he becomes too curious. “What’s going on?”

Uriel looks at him with his usual mix of stern and fond. “You have a guest.”

Cas frowns. “A guest?” he asks.

Uriel merely nods and tips his head toward the stairs.

Cas follows the motion, past the paintings on the wall, to the bottom of the staircase – and feels his heart stop. His feet begin to move before he tells them to, and then he’s nearly running but- He doesn’t care.

The floors are too smooth and he slides just slightly, when he reaches the staircase.

Dean catches him.

“Hey.” His smile’s like a sunrise the moment they touch. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Dean…” Cas can’t find his words. Dean is _here_ , smiling at him, dressed in a tux and- “How did you-”

“I told you I’d let you know,” Dean thumbs his cheek. “So, here I am.” He looks incredible with his face gone pink. “But only if you want to, Cas.”

“Of course, I do,” Cas says with a laugh, so thoroughly enamored and breathlessly happy. “Dean, I… I kept on thinking, that maybe I was wrong. That maybe you didn’t…”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, and takes Cas’ hand. “No, Cas. Never.”

“Oh.” Cas feels his heart sing. He entwines their fingers. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Uriel helped,” Dean confesses with a grin. “It’s kind of scary how stealthy he is.”

“I can hear you,” Uriel huffs, but when Cas looks at him, he’s smiling back. Well, one corner of his mouth is higher than the other. “So,” he waves in Dean’s direction. “You really like this mud monkey then?” he asks.

Cas is caught between a laugh and getting teary-eyed. “Yeah, I do,” he says earnestly. “I… Uriel, thank you.” He squeezes Dean’s hand.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Curious eyes all over the ballroom track him and Dean when they start to dance, the band playing a jazzy cover of a classic love song, his hand on Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s on his waist.

“So, am I allowed to kiss you while you’re on duty?”

Dean’s laughter crinkles his eyes. “I’m always on duty.” He lets Cas look put-upon for a fleeting moment. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Cas smiles.

Dean pulls him closer as they sway together, in a world of their own as the chorus swells. When Castiel asks if this counts as a date, Dean replies, “No, that’s another surprise.”

“Really,” Cas peers at him, helplessly charmed. “You can’t give me any hints?”

“Batting your eyes won’t work this time,” Dean says with a wink, which is equally unfair. Cas is about to tell him as much, but Dean speaks again first, low and quiet. He asks, “You’re sure this is what you want?”

God, he wants it so much. “Definitely.”

“Not some… I dunno. Trust fund kid?”

Cas wrinkles his nose, which is answer enough. “They won’t reassign you, will they? Because of me?” he worries, unsure. There’s not much space separating them now, but he draws a bit closer, further into Dean’s arms.

Dean feels secure, anchoring him, and his eyes are soft when he smiles at Cas. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

His knight in shining armor. “Good,” Cas says.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

The following Friday, Dean knocks on Cas’ door, dressed in his favorite button down and nicest pair of jeans. Cas answers quickly, already pink around the edges. The blush only darkens when Dean kisses his cheek.   

They have dinner in town, just the two of them, and after, Dean takes his hand, leading to them back to campus and the observatory. The weather’s warmed up and there’s a good-sized crowd, but he and Dean seem to only have eyes for each other.

“I know you’ve already done this,” Dean says, when they’re stood by the telescope, “but I wanted to come with you.”

Dean looks a little flustered and Castiel smiles, his heart so full. “No, it’s great.”

The sky is clear and perfect for tonight, and Dean wraps an arm around him. “How do they look?”

“Beautiful,” Cas replies, then pulling back to meet Dean’s eyes. “Not so lonely today.”

Dean quirks his lips. “Yeah?” he says, and this time, he’s the one who leans in to kiss Cas.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

That night, back in his room, Cas glances at the list thumbtacked to his wall. He reads the items – _ice skating on the pond,_ _watch the sunrise_ – and realizes he never checked off _visit the observatory_. His lips still tingle from their good night kiss, his hand still warm from being tenderly held. His chest seems to swell as he reaches for a pen, and he checks it off the list with a tiny Sharpie heart.

**Author's Note:**

> [Rebloggable link here](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/174276215920/deancas-the-one-that-i-want) (please share if you enjoyed the fic!)
> 
> As always, do leave me kudos, comments, and love! :)


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